War of the worlds: Late arrivals
by Sturmtrooper
Summary: In 1897 the Martians invaded and nearly destroyed the planet. What if they stopped to think of the bacteria? It would take them decades to become immune! It is now 1944 and they are ready, but have WW1 and WW2 prepared Humanity enough?


It was an ordinary summer evening in France. The stars were twinkling, no air raids were being conducted and there was a calming sense so strong that neither side decided to use night to attack. The American were breaking out booze and the Germans were smoking cigarettes, not worrying as it was 10:00 at night and enemy snipers haven't picked off one of them. As the night dragged on, both sides began to fall into slumber. One of the Americans, CRP Patrick Jameson, was looking up at the sky and saw a white flash as descended upon the nearby field before disappearing. Both American and German alike were woken by a thunderous crash as the meteor hurled up dirt and corpse from the weeks battle. Patrick and a few others rushed over and saw a huge rock, the size of a house and three times as long. A snap was heard behind them but they were too awestruck to move. They didn't even flinch when a German officer stepped into the crater and banged on the rock with his pistol.

"SCHEISSE!" Patrick saw the officer clutch his hand, his face contorted in pain as the now steaming Walther P38 fell onto the hot soil. He ran over to the kraut and asked him

"Are you alright?" The German looked at him confused. Patrick motioned to his hand and made a yes/no signal with his thumb. The German just shook his head.

They backed away carefully, not because of the heat, but because they heard a hollow, metallic sound when the pistol was bashed against it. They turned and ran back to their respective armies to tell what they saw. In the morning the meteor was surrounded by German and American tanks, artillery and soldiers. Other reports confirm that other meteors have landed in Africa, the Pacific and Europe; where the most troops are.

Patrick saw the German officer again but this time he had a bandage around his right hand and a German to English dictionary in his hand. He walked up to the corporal and asked in crude English "What… ist… that thing?"

"I don't know. But it is definitely not a rock. I think it is a metal mound that…" Patrick paused at the sound of scraping. Everyone, hearing it too, turned towards the source: The meteor. The end began to rotate slowly at first, but it began to pick up the pace. Everyone stared, paralysed by the unscrewing. Nobody dared speak; it was so quiet you could hear the unified breathing. Around four feet of shining, green metal appeared when the lid fell off suddenly; making a second, smaller crater on the field with a clunk. Seconds turned into minutes as nothing when the lid fell off suddenly, making a second, smaller crater on the field with a c. Everyone now knew that this was created by other sentient beings.

Slowly, a huge grey bulk, as large as a bear, crawled out on snake like tentacles, looking like a deformed octopus. Its greenish purple, lidless eyes pierced the souls of the soldiers as a lipless mouth slobbered and pulsed with each heave of breath it took. It scanned its surroundings and took in the sight of soldiers standing like wax figurines in the cool morning. Three men broke from the spell and took a white sheet from a bed they looted from the nearby rubble town. They tied it to a pole and slowly advanced onto the creature, throwing their Mausers and M1 Garand's onto the dirt as they approached. The alien crept back into the gaping maw of the hole it came out of as a giant funnel rose on a stilt. A red glass chamber lit up and hummed as the funnel pointed towards the men. The hum grew louder and erupted into a whir as a white ray spewed out of the funnel, vaporising the soldiers into nothing but dust.

At that moment, everyone opened fire. The men, clumsily aiming and missing, only scored a few hits on the thing as it turned on them; melting tanks and exploding artillery. Patrick grabbed the officer by his coat and ran for the nearest ditch. The two men made it as the white ray flew over them, turning more men into nothingness and exploding a tree into flames. Eventually, a well place Panzerfaust shot crippled the heat ray but the shooter got sent to oblivion before it could hit. Now Patrick was alone with his former enemy to accompany him. They stayed there, too scared to move for the life of them. After hours, the creature appeared again, struggling to move as it carried tools to repair the machine.

Only now did Patrick notice how vulnerable it looked without its shell. He also noticed that it began to repair the weapon that would wipe him out. He aimed with his rifle, the notch right on the creature's humongous head. He fired and kept unloading his bullets onto his new enemy as it splattered a yellow substance. When he registered the clicking of an empty weapon, he saw a pool of gold form around the creature. He felt a hand on his back: The German.

"Come, wir need to leave." With a nod, they both trudge in the general direction of Normandy, the closest port to them.

Patrick and the Officer, Klaus, trudged for a week before they managed to get to the nearest checkpoint. The American troops held up and aimed their rifles at Klaus.

"Wait! He is with me. We need to get to Normandy." The men looked at their comrade as though he had grown a second head.

"Why should we let you pass?"

Not going to bother with German spelling "Because we need to warn everyone about the Heat ray!" A whole hour was spent telling in detail what had happened, with Patrick confirming every bit of Klaus' story.

A moment of silence. "A heat ray you say? Where would this capsule be? We need to get it before those things get it back up."

"A few days South East from here." With that they carried on. As they days went by, they grew more thirsty and hungry, having run out of their last bit of rations when the heat ray struck. Eventually they took shelter in a cottage. Raiding the pantry, they found a few slices of stale bread, some cheese, a bit of cold meat and broken pipe which spewed out water for their canteens. Night took them but they lit a small candle, afraid anymore light would attract a nearby Heat ray. Patrick was using the toilet and was about to wipe with newspaper until he saw what was written on there:

 _Mars is approaching a close proximity to earth. Unusual jets of green vapour came from the surface…._

Stopping only to buckle his pants, the American ran down and shoved the paper in Klaus' face. "Martians! That's what they are." Patrick almost yelled. Klause shushed him and soon after they got to sleep, unaware of the last few white flashes that descended upon earth.

Next morning, they took what food they could carry and filled up their canteens with the fresh water. They left the house to whatever soldier might loot it next. They walked, fresh from the little luxury they had last night, and heard a vicious crash in the distance. Fearful of a Martian encampment nearby, they jogged at a quick pace near running. After an hour, they stopped in the underbrush of a forest, panting and staying still.

After an hour, they saw them: Huge, silvery blue tripods that rose higher than the tallest watchtower. There were three of them, striding over homes and trees, each carrying a funnel which now haunted the minds of the two men: The Heat ray!

The machines powered on their Heat rays and with a single swipe, obliterated the row of French housing. Turning man, women, child and even animals into dust as they massacred men. A bang was heard and one of the machines buckled as smoke rose steadily from it. With a huge clang, the metal rang out as it made contact with the ground. The machines turned their attention to the killer of their comrade, 5 German Panzer IV and 4 American Sherman Tanks. They fired simultaneously, decapitating a second fighting machine. Struck with a fever, Klaus and Patrick began to cheer the tanks on.

The Martian activated the weapon and in a good burst all of the tanks lay immobile, dead as molten metal poured and ran everywhere. A minute later, eight cords appeared and attached themselves to the fallen Martians. The machine lumbered away as it dragged its fallen comrades. A huge, drone like howl was heard before it disappeared.

Needing no further prompting, Klaus and Patrick carried onwards to Normandy. After many days, Klaus and Patrick finally arrived at Normandy. Tired and hungry, they pushed past the soldiers who were stationed on guard duty, not stopping them as they looked like absolute wrecks. No one knew of the horror they witnessed on their journey; of the massacre; of the Heatray. If the two could get out of France then they might be able to warn England who in return would warn America and if Klaus can warn the Axis, the World War will end and they can fight these abominations.

Squeezing past two tanks, they found that most of the ferries were already on their way to England.

"Dulcie." Breathed Klaus, looking at the nearest ship. On it was a blonde and green eyed girl that was the focus point of the German officer. At sight of him she cried, fearing that whatever madness is making two enemies fight together would take his life. "She and I met after the blitz of 1939. We have been lovers since."

Patrick nodded but his attention was elsewhere and it was not one of love, but fear. Splashing with each stride three Fighting Machines made their way down the coast towards the convoy. Only two ships stood between them, the _HMS Orion_ and _SS Gedurnacht_. With a whoosh of steam and spray of water, they swung about with war cries of horns and whistles. The Martians responded in a howl which shook everything to its core, sounding unearthly and unrealistic. Bangs could be heard as the shell found their targets but the Machines did not buckle but stumbled. A second volley crippled one of the Heatrays and it exploded, melting the invader to a puddle which solidified on contact with the water. In revenge, the second machine slashed its Heatray and destroyed the _Orion_. Its partner shot again but missed. For the next ten minutes, both missed their targets either due to evasive manoeuvring or just because the sights weren't lined up. A swipe of alien technology left the German ship near death. It began to sink and after a moment, it was finished off.

By this time the last of the ferries had left and Dulcie was safe, but the English Channel was forever under Martian rule now. Deciding not to stay in case that thing would go on land, Patrick left with Klaus in tow, this time inland, where they would be safer.

* * *

After a month the two looked more horrific than ever. They hardly slept in case the Martians came their way; their clothes were torn and frayed; they had to scavenge for food in abandoned buildings or dead men whose bodies still existed from the Heatray and they smelled worse than a sewer.

All around them, very little green vegetation remained. The red weed that gave Mars its hellish appearance took root on earth and began to convert the plants. An early autumn had descended upon them as red leaves fell in the July afternoon. They spotted a church nearby with a priest sitting on the step.

"Why are these things permitted?" he kept mumbling over and over again.

"Excuse us, can we take shelter here?" Patrick asked.

The man looked up, tear streaked but smiling. "Of course, the house of the lord is will take in any who seek refuge. Please come in, but don't go downstairs into the cellars. We were renovating it when these devils appeared."

Klaus didn't buy it but played along, when they entered he secretly whispered into Patricks ear. "Keep an eye out for him; French Churches do not renovate anything in times of war." Patrick nodded.

They chatted the man up but then Klaus said he will be going outside to relieve himself, but instead turned to the cellar. After creeping down the stairs and opening the door, he saw an awful sight: Men, Women and even Children hung naked, crucified on the very symbol of the church.

Meanwhile, Patrick had been keeping the priest occupied but when his back was turned, the man had raised a gun. Before the trigger could be pulled however, Klaus charged in and tackled the priest to the ground. The gun flew out of his hand and landed at the American's feet.

A struggle, and when it seemed like as though Klaus was about to die a shot was heard and the priest slumped dead. Patrick had the smoking gun in his hand. After a moment, the two left in a hurry, fearful that the shot attracted a Fighting Machine. They marched recklessly for days afterwards.

There was no defeating these nightmares. They know that now. Of the wounded Martians they saw, every one of them healed up with some kind of space band aid. They believed that since the Martians were capable of such technology then almost all bacteria would have been wiped out. Klaus was growing worried for Dulcie, each and every day signalled another higher chance that she would be nothing more than dust or food, they had seen what those creatures feasted upon: They drained men of all the necessities like nutrients and blood, and pumping it into their own brain like body.

Patrick on the other hand remained optimistic that there is still a chance to defeat the Martians. From the scientific books on Earth and Mars that they scavenged from a university library, he learned that the gravity and atmospheric pressure on Mars is lighter than on earth so they would move slower. Furthermore they learned from their little excursions to Martian camps to sneak around them, that the Martians never made a fully functional Flying Machine.

A dreadful howl suddenly pierced the air. It sounded like a Martian but more, gravelly. A Fighting Machine came stumbling over the horizon. It crashed and the body of the Martian was visible, covered in the pus blobs of Smallpox. Another came and crashed, except this Martian was dead from Typhus. The Martians may have created means of defeating bacteria, but they never considered the deadly virus.

After the War of the Worlds, both men quitted their armies and went to settle in Florida. Dulcie amongst them. Word soon arrived that the Fuher of Germany, Adolf Hitler, had been killed by a Martian. But that mattered little to the world. Were they now safe, or was this a small break and the Martians learned their lessons?


End file.
